by John Bishop
underworld.
Rodney Durkin, well-known actor and Lenny’s brother-in-law, had taken a break from rehearsals for a revival of Death of a Salesman to deliver the eulogy. At the graveside, he stood beside his sister, looking elegantly sad. He was confident nobody would take him for a dim-witted truck driver—a role in which he’d revelled. Had he seen the identikit image produced by the police artist from Judith’s description, he would have been amazed how closely it resembled the character he had created. Stage make-up was one of his special talents.
To amuse himself as he strolled back with other members of the funeral cortège, Durkin approached Megan Schmitz, whom he recognized despite having seen her only in a rear vision mirror.
‘I think we’ve met,’ he said. ‘Did you come backstage for an autograph after The Crucible?’
‘It must have been somebody else,’ Meg said.
‘What a pity,’ he murmured. ‘I was hoping for a repeat of… Oh well. You do look lovely in black.’
On the television news that night, Gavin recognized the two giant minders who had been present at his first meeting with Lenny. They were never far from the side of Lenny’s wife, Miranda, a petite woman who had slipped seamlessly into the role of gang boss. He wondered if any of the other men he saw was John Sutton, the lawyer he knew only by voice and who had advised him to lie low for the time being.
‘I can’t get over Miranda,’ Justin said at a debriefing later that day. ‘I had her picked as one of those underworld wives who isn’t really part of the action. I’d never met her until we visited the d’Aratzio mansion to tell Lenny the prosecutor had agreed to defer charging him. She turned out to be a tough angry lady. Accused me of going there to gloat and to make sure Lenny really was close to death. And today I copped one hell of a malicious stare when she saw me hanging around.’
Eamon shook his head. ‘I’m still uneasy about our visit to see Lenny. It was my first encounter with Miranda too. Now he’s croaked, I’m not convinced she won’t have another go at Kingsley and maybe at others who’ve crossed her. The word on the street is she knows Lenny was warned by other underworld heavies not to target you or any other members of the force. The mob isn’t ready to start a shooting war with us. But the person she’s thoroughly crapped off about is Tony Blake. She blames him for denying Lenny his moment of revenge and causing him a lot of physical pain. Lenny had obviously given her a blow-by-blow description of how things went down in Arajinna. If Manny Cornelius helps us put some of Miranda’s other associates away… well, mate, I think we have to stay on high alert.’
Megan sat back and emitted a long sigh. ‘If we have to tell the Blakes to keep watching their backs, where will it ever end?’
Justin said, ‘I’d like to call Eamon a worry-wart, but I’ve been having similar thoughts. When I talked to Lenny before he tried the hit, he wasn’t fussed about who Manny might name. It’s not hard to see why. Manny wasn’t part of Lenny’s gang. He was freelance, and he won’t survive long in the pokey if he gives up anyone with clout. I suspect he’s going to give us names from Lenny’s own wish list, petty crims who’ve crossed the big boys. And the other gang bosses will get the joke and Manny will be given protection inside.’
Eamon nodded. ‘And they’ll all laugh about how we did a deal to reduce the charges.’
‘So do we warn Max and Tony?’ Megan asked.
There was a pause while Justin thought. Eventually, he said, ‘I’ll call Max. I’ll repeat what I told him a long time back—to get on with their lives and let us do the worrying. The Blake’s have adapted well to that philosophy in the past. If Miranda is a threat, I think she’ll be very careful what she does. Her lawyers will advise her that any hit on Max or Tony will revive a stack of other good circumstantial evidence. Even if we couldn’t find a link to the hit, they’d be in for some real heat on their activities while we poked around. We’ve seen in the past how other gangs manoeuvre for territory if we concentrate our attention on one operation. Self-interest is always bigger than honour among thieves.’
Megan managed a half-smile. ‘I find that a comforting thought, boss. I sure hope you’re right.’
Forensics
Friday 25th September 1992
The head of forensic enquiries, Dr Gunter Karp, had told Justin he had more pressing work than to examine the damaged truck brought from Arajinna nearly a month ago. Justin agreed it was a low priority job. Examining the truck might, at best, help identify one or more of Lenny’s lowlife accomplices in the failed mission at Banabrook.
What changed Gunter’s mind was that the truck occupied much of the area allocated to the forensics department in the secure basement. On the morning of Friday 25th September, the arrival of a van filled with boxes of items from other investigations caused a crisis. Tempers flared at the loading dock of the secure facility and Gunter was called to make peace. The truck would have to be dealt with. Putting aside his other work, he conducted a preliminary examination of the driver’s cabin. He found nothing of immediate interest. The department’s sophisticated equipment did little other than to locate some substances that might be worth testing. He gave an enthusiastic young assistant instructions to take scrapings, and specified the procedures required. It would give the young woman...what was her name again? Bryony? Yes, it would give bright young Bryony Somebody Ph.D useful experience in tests she hadn’t previously had the opportunity to try. By Friday evening Bryony had collected the scrapings and set out an array of test tubes on a bench in the laboratory. Had the strange coincidence of a new high priority job not required Gunter to visit Arajinna on the Monday, Bryony would probably have consulted him about one of the samples. Instead, acting on her own initiative, she looked up a number in the telephone directory and made a call.